


you shine (in this pitch black darkness)

by coffeebiscuits



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Fluff, Galo Thymos Being an Idiot, Kissing, Lio Fotia Is Always Cold, Love Confessions, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, basically galo shows up in lio’s dreams, i’m weak for awkwardly confident galo and flustered lio, kind of, man i really don’t know what tags to use, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebiscuits/pseuds/coffeebiscuits
Summary: Lio’s been dreaming.Not the usual dreams either, where one slowly shifts into subconsciousness, where your actions and thoughts are muffled and dulled like you’re sinking underwater. Not the dreams that leave you as soon as you snap awake, where the bittersweet, hazy memory of it lies on your tongue but at the same time is out of your reach.In Lio’s dreams he burns.
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Galo Thymos, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	you shine (in this pitch black darkness)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a gift for my very dear friend. 
> 
> merry (early) christmas, allie — i love you with my whole heart and i hope you like this. 
> 
> also, side note: this fic takes place probably about half a year after promare. i’m not sure what time promare took place, but just know that this fic is after christmas lol. enjoy!!

Lio’s been dreaming. 

Not the usual dreams either, where one slowly shifts into subconsciousness, where your actions and thoughts are muffled and dulled like you’re sinking underwater. Not the dreams that leave you as soon as you snap awake, where the bittersweet, hazy memory of it lies on your tongue but at the same time is out of your reach. 

In Lio’s dreams he  _ burns. _

In Lio’s dreams he goes back home — not where home is a place, but where home is a feeling, where the promare return to him, light up his hollow shell of a body and make him feel whole again. In his dreams, when he draws in a breath, the sweet heady smell of smoke fills his nose and his chest burns like matches lighting in his lungs. 

In his dreams he flicks his hand and the flames come back to him, dancing on his fingers, and they whisper  _ welcome back _ , and Lio flutters his eyes, his thirst relinquished. 

But just as his fire returns, just as the dizzying glow of his flames paint his body in hues of purple and pink, he’s pulled back to consciousness abruptly like a cord snapping. 

And these moments are the worst, when Lio wakes up. In these moments, he wrinkles his nose at the sour smell of sweat and panic that clogs the room. Here is when he feels the coldest and the emptiest, when the chill seeps so deep into his bones that his teeth chatter and his hands shake. 

On these days, Lio accepts the fact that he won’t get any sleep. Instead, he gets up and makes himself instant coffee and opens his laptop and welcomes the harsh light it emits like a beacon. 

Sometimes when he’s hungry, he’ll make himself toast. His shoulders will tremble as he feels the toaster glow with heat, and remembers when he did the same. 

His exhaustion will show, too, will crawl into every waking moment until it’s an effort to keep his heavy eyes open, but Lio can’t go back to those dreams, he  _ can’t _ . 

So instead he carefully ignores the mirror, where the deep dark circles under his eyes are painfully noticeable, makes himself more coffee, and throws himself into his work. 

He maybe throws himself into his work  _ too much _ , because before he knows it he hears a knock at his door and the warm buttery streaks of sunrise are streaming through the window. 

Lio immediately knows who’s at the window, doesn’t even need to ask — it’s Galo, of course, because this is a daily routine. The man next door comes every morning at 7:30 AM sharp (knocks three times on the door every time, in quick succession), and they go down to the fire station together, where Lio spends all day thinking about how to seamlessly merge the Burnish back into society without the harsh burn of deeply rooted racism. 

“Come in,” Lio calls, and his voice sounds scratchy, his throat rubbed raw. He winces. 

The door creaks open, and Lio can’t help but smile softly as Galo blunders in. 

Galo’s eyes quickly scan the area and a brilliant, teethy grin creeps into his face. “Hey, firebug, what are you doing working this early?” 

Lio shrugs, and then can feel the gears working in Galo’s brain as his gaze shifts to Lio’s unkempt hair, and then his dark circles, and the empty mugs scattered around him — 

“ _ Lio _ ,” Galo half-gasps, half-whines as the realization comes to him. “You didn’t work all night, did you?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” is the only thing that Lio says in response. Galo must have just come from a shower, because there are sparkling beads of water that cling to his neck. Lio’s eyes fixate on a wet patch on Galo’s shirt where he can see the outline of a collarbone, and heat sparks in his chest. 

“Why not? You know, Aina has a friend whose girlfriend has insomnia. She says that eating big meals before bed is a bad idea — hello? Are you even listening to me?” 

Lio looks away. “I don’t have insomnia,” he mutters. He’s so tired. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.” 

His dreams are one thing that Lio refuses to tell Galo. In his opinion, they are for him to know and him alone. Such a private, blazing reminder of who he used to be did not need to be laid bare for the whole world to see. 

There are a lot of things that Lio doesn’t tell Galo, he thinks as he grabs his keys. Things that he doesn’t plan on revealing any time soon. 

* * *

The day, like all days, passes by in a blur. It’s a jumble of conferences and staring at Galo for far too long and deep imprints of Lio’s hand against his face. 

Just how the sun starts his day, Lio wraps up as the sun sinks below the horizon. He’s always one of the last to leave, and he watches as Lucia waves goodbye before she steps outside. 

Then it’s just him and Galo, and Lio feels all-too familiar panic rise in his throat. 

Galo puts his pen down and smiles at him from across the room, and Lio can’t watch. He’s too bright — a dizzying rush of color and kindness that Lio feels guilty even looking at him. 

Galo’s pure, and Lio’s damaged goods. 

“What say we go back to our apartments?” Galo proposes, sweeping his hair back. His arm muscles shift in the movement, and Lio’s not staring,  _ he’s not _ . “Order some of that spicy takeout you like?” 

“I can’t,” Lio says on autopilot, and feels sheepish guilt squirming in his stomach as he watches Galo visibly deflate. “I’m meeting up with Meis and Gueira.” 

“Oh.” 

“But we’re going to get pizza. I can — I can bring some back for you. If you’d like.” Lio blinks twice, quickly, feeling his neck grow hot. 

Galo’s blatant surprise on his face mirrors Lio’s own. It’s the kind of proposition he rarely makes. He makes an exception for Galo, this time. 

Lio’s always making exceptions for Galo. 

_ Don’t feel anything that could fuck things up, ever, for anyone _ . It’s on the top of his list. It’s the first rule he broke. 

“I’d like that,” Galo says, and Lio thinks that’s that, but it looks like Galo wants to say more. He crosses his ankles, cheeks pink, licks his lips — Lio’s eyes follow the movement, and his heartbeat thrums in anticipation. 

“Lio,” Galo begins, and Lio thinks  _ this is it _ . 

A loud, impatient buzzing noise throws them both off, and Lio jumps in his seat as he hears the familiar staccato of his phone ringing. 

“It’s Meis,” Lio explains as he glances at the clock. “I’m late, I think — I’m sorry, can we talk about this later?”

Lio isn’t sure what  _ this  _ is, and he’s not confident that Galo knows either, but he fumbles for his jacket and waits for a response anyway. 

“Sure,” Galo says, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Lio doesn’t really know what’s going on, but he does know he needs to get going. 

“Sorry,” Lio apologizes again as he reaches for the doorknob. “I’ll bring some pizza back for you.”

  
  
  


He’s twenty minutes late when he finally enters the pizzeria, huffing against the cold that presses against his skin and curls around his neck. 

His eyes scan the room (three exits, more if you count the windows) before landing on Meis and Gueira. Their eyes light up when they see him and wave overdramatically. Lio rolls his eyes and makes his way over to them, wincing as he feels his shoes adhere to the sticky floor. 

“Lio!” Gueira grins cheekily when he’s within earshot. “You’re late!” 

Meis is in the middle of shoving an entire steaming slice of pizza in his mouth, but he manages to fixate a glare on Lio anyways. 

“Sorry,” Lio sighs, “I got held up. Galo—”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Gueira declares loudly, much, much too loudly. “ _ Galo. _ ” 

Lio can feel his face heat up, his eye twitch — “ _ Shut up shut up shut up _ .”

Meis seems to have finished swallowing his pizza slice whole, and his sauce-stained lips curl up into a grin. “We know all about your feelings for Galo, don’t we, Gueria?” 

“I hate you guys so much,” Lio deadpans, trying to act calm and collected and ignoring the fact that he’s sweating. “I don’t have any feelings for Galo. He’s fine.” 

“He looks at you like you hung the moon, you know,” Gueira offers, taking the salt canister and sprinkling an unhealthy amount on his pizza. 

Meis wrinkles his nose. “And you look at him like you want to jump his bones. What the fuck, Gueira, chill out with that salt. You’re going to get heartburn.” 

“We die like men,” is all Gueria says in response.

Lio puts his head in his hands, his temples throbbing. He’s exhausted. 

“I don’t have any feelings for Galo,” he says exasperatedly. “End of story.”

Meis and Gueria share a look. Lio pretends not to see. 

“Can I just order?” Lio asks desperately. Faintly, he realizes he’s trembling. 

“Yeah,” Meis hums, worry painted clear on his face. “Just go up to the counter.” 

Lio stands up on shaky legs, anxiety coursing through him in waves.  _ I don’t like Galo _ , he tells himself. He digs his fingernails into his palm.  _ I’m not in love with Galo.  _

He stumbles to the counter. “One pineapple pizza please,” he hears himself mumbling. “Extra cheese.” 

Lio rubs his thumb over the white crescent imprints on his palm and squeezes his eyes.  _ Get a grip _ . 

He sits back down and ignores the concerned looks his friends shoot him. 

“What’d you get?” Gueira asks carefully. 

“Pineapple.” 

“But you don’t like—”

“Galo likes it,” Lio blurts, cutting him off. It feels like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I’m bringing some for him.”

He’s filled with a sweet rush of relief. He hasn’t said much, but it feels like he’s said everything. 

_ I’m not in love with Galo _ , he repeats, but the words crumble to sand in his mouth, and they taste like a lie. 

* * *

It’s an hour or so away from midnight when Lio turns the key in the lock of his apartment and swings open the door. 

It’s dead quiet and the only noise is the constant hum of Lio’s refrigerator. He fumbles for the light switch. Dim light flickers through the room, and Lio huffs when he sees the dirty mugs and pencil caps strewn on the coffee table. 

_ This doesn’t feel like home _ , he realizes as he looks around. There are his clothes in the drawers, and the Xbox Meis got him for Christmas is plugged into the TV, and those are his pots and pans and dishes in the sink, but he doesn’t associate this place with home. 

Lio’s never had a physical home, anyway. His home has always been the people in his life. 

Like Gueira. And Meis. 

And Galo. 

Lio sighs. He doesn’t want to think about Galo right now. What he really wants to do is close his eyes and catch a breather. Just for a moment. 

He shuffles over to his bed and lies down, face pressed to his pillow, not even bothering to get undressed. It’s embarrassingly easy to let his heavy eyes close, sticky with exhaustion. 

_ Just for a moment _ , he thinks, and as he drifts off to sleep he can feel the heat already rise in his throat. 

  
  
  
  


Something in this dream is different, and it’s the first thing Lio notices. 

The setting is the same — he’s still in the darkness, in a gaping stretch of pitch black that seems to go on forever. And when he opens his eyes, a dizzying rush of warmth courses through him like usual, like countless dreams before this. When he wiggles his fingers, feeling full to the brim with life again, purple flames,  _ his  _ flames, dance between them as always. 

But something is off. In his dreams, Lio always feels alone. Like he’s floating through a numbing black existence, one that he’ll never swim out of. This time it feels like someone is here with him. 

Lio strains his ears, and he can hear a faint pattern of breathing and clothes rustling behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

Can he even die in these dreams? Nothing like this has ever happened before — it’s always the same, he’s always tortured with having the Promare back for what feels like eternity before they’re snatched away from him and he wakes up. They’ve always felt too real, too high-definition, and Lio feels as if he’s standing precariously on a cliff and he’s tipping off the edge. 

There’s the sound of a step behind him, and Lio whirls. 

It’s Galo, because of course it is. 

For a few moments, it’s completely silent — it’s just the two of them, and the darkness that engulfs them. It’s like there’s cotton stuffed in Lio’s ears, and for a second, he feels overwhelmed by the silence, suffocated by it. He’s had the Promare’s voices in his ears for as long as he can remember. He can’t stand the quiet. 

“Hi,” Lio breathes, and it feels like there’s a heavy hand pressing over his heart, weighing down his chest. 

“Lio,” Galo responds. He has a big smile on his face, the one that’s reserved for Lio and Lio only. 

And something in Lio snaps, suddenly, and he can feel his self-control melt instantly like wax being held under a burning flame. He strides forwards, and Galo eyes widen, and Lio thinks  _ fuck it, this is my dream.  _

Lio comes to a stop before Galo, and he’s so close he can count every eyelash, and he’s scared, he’s so scared but he’s also never felt more alive. 

“I am going to kiss you now,” he says, “is that okay with you?” 

“You’re really pretty,” Galo says dumbly in response, and Lio grins and takes that as a yes. 

He shoves their faces together, almost a little too forcefully, and it’s ridiculous because Lio’s kissed plenty of people before but with Galo it’s like his first kiss all over again. It’s even better, because he wasn’t conscious to remember their first first kiss, but now he is and he’s alive with it. 

Galo inhales sharply (it’s music to Lio’s ears) and he drags his fingers, light as a feather, along Lio’s spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

Lio smiles into the kiss, and it’s the perfect balance of soft and rough, nipping at each other’s lips and then a lock of hair tucked behind an ear. It’s the most dangerously intoxicating thing Lio’s ever done. 

And there’s a sudden rush of water, and he can feel it swirling and lapping at their feet, at their ankles, and he should feel extinguished but he’s not, he’s  _ not  _ — he feels hotter than ever, and he burns, because Galo lights a fire in him that he’s never felt before, one that ignites so brightly Lio feels it through his entire body, right up to his throat. 

They break apart, and Lio gasps, sucking in air likes he’s never tasted it before. Galo does the same, leaning his head back, his neck, with a light sheen of sweat, arched with his ridiculous blue hair messy and splayed. Lio’s fingers twitch, and a curl of heat swirls in his gut, but not in the way that he’s too familiar with. 

“Holy shit,” Galo says and he sits down, right in the middle of the water that Lio still doesn’t know the source of. Lio can’t do anything but join him, really, but the water’s warm and it rises to his waist. 

“Yes,” Lio says. He presses his hand over his own chest. His heart is swelling — it feels too full. 

Galo wets his lips, flushed cherry red. Lio’s hungry eyes eagerly follow the movement. 

Galo laughs, disbelievingly. “I  _ really  _ like you.” 

“I got pineapple pizza for you,” Lio says dumbly. He feels like he’s about to cry. 

Galo’s eyes light up. His chest heaves, and Lio doesn’t tell himself to look away this time. 

“Do you like me too?” Galo asks shyly, and this should feel stupid and immature, the way Lio’s heart sings in his chest and the warmth tingling in his body — this should feel like some small playground romance, but it doesn’t. It feels like everything. 

“I do,” Lio laughs. “I  _ really  _ do. Probably too much.”

Galo bursts out laughing, and he’s smiling the biggest smile Lio’s ever seen from him. It’s all teeth and crinkled eyes and electric blue. 

It’s contagious, the most contagious thing Lio’s ever seen, and he can’t help but crack a smile. 

Then Lio remembers where he is, and his laughter dies on his tongue. 

“I wish I could tell you,” he sighs. 

Galo’s eyebrow quirks up. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m dreaming. I wish I had the courage to tell you. For real.” 

“I don’t understand,” Galo says, confusion painted on his face. Lio opens his mouth to respond — 

He wakes up. 

There’s the sun in his eyes, and his mouth is dry, and there’s a pounding noise coming from his door. 

“What the hell,” Lio grumbles. He rolls out of his bed, throwing off his blankets, and instantly, he realizes two things. 

One, he’s warm. 

He’s immediately thrown off. He hasn’t felt warmth,  _ true warmth _ , since the Promare left. Especially not after one of his dreams. He’s always cold when he wakes up, his breaths coming out in shaking and quick gasps, goosebumps prickling on his skin. Now he feels like he visited the sun personally, like sunshine 

had soaked deep into his pores and his bones. 

Two, his hair is wet. 

It confuses Lio for a moment, and he strains his brain trying to think of how his hair could be damp — he didn’t wash his hair last night — he briefly considers the possibility of Gueira sneaking into his room and dumping water over his head. Until he remembers the water in his dream. 

Lio sharply takes a breath. It’s impossible. 

The pounding gets louder, and Galo’s voice carries through the room — “ _ Lio _ !”

“In a minute,” Lio yells back, and he can feel himself start to panic. What he’s thinking can’t be real, it can’t. He hears Galo start to get impatient, and he reaches for the door, hands shaking. 

He flings it open, and Galo’s on the other side. It looks like he just rolled out of bed, he’s only wearing sweatpants (Lio’s eyes travel down down  _ down _ before he rips his gaze back up, ears flushing scarlet). 

“What’s up,” Lio asks, albeit irritatingly. “It’s 8 AM on a Sunday—”

His breath hitches when he realizes Galo’s hair. It’s dripping wet, drops of water snaking down his chest. 

Lio’s throat closes up, and he bites his lower lip, hard, pain blooming in his mouth. “What are you—”

“You had a dream, right?” Galo cuts him off, eyes wild. “Just now. It wasn’t just me, right?”

Lio doesn’t respond. He’s shaking, teeth chattering, and he doesn’t know  _ why _ , he just knows he’s scared and the one thought that’s running through his head is  _ not like this, not like this.  _ He doesn’t want to face rejection, and he has half a mind to just leave. 

Galo can tell, because Galo can always tell. He latches his hands on Lio’s shoulders, and they’re warm and strong. 

“Calm down, firebug,” Galo says quietly — which is not actually quiet at all. “Deep breaths.” 

Lio hiccups. “Don’t want to lose you.” He doesn’t have the faintest idea what he’s saying — all he knows is the panic clouding his head, fogging up his thoughts. 

Galo’s gaze softens. “You’re not gonna. You always say I’m the one dumb as a rock, but look at you.” He thumbs Lio’s cheek, in a rythmic, soothing motion. Lio automatically leans into the touch. 

“We’re partners, Lio,” Galo continues. “Remember? Always going to be.”

“Yeah,” Lio sniffles. He feels gross. “Sorry.” 

“For what?” Galo cracks a blinding grin. 

Lio smiles weakly back, and then realizes that they’re still standing in the hallway. He opens his door and steps back. “Do you want to come in?”

  
  
  
  


Galo in Lio’s apartment is not an unusual sight. He comes over all too frequently to play on Lio’s Xbox or shower when his water is cut off (Galo’s bad at remembering to pay the bills). When he comes over he has a habit of doodling on Lio’s sticky notes, and Lio always rolls his eyes and pretends to hate it, but he secretly has a stack of Galo’s shitty doodles hidden in his drawer. 

Galo has a weirdly passionate love for orange soda, so Lio always stocks his fridge with it. He always makes sure he has pizza ingredients ready to go, because there have been multiple impulsive pizza-making sessions between them. 

Lio technically lives alone, but his apartment is covered with imprints of Galo. 

Galo sits down on the couch, tucking his usual pillow behind him. Lio goes rummaging in his fridge for the pineapple pizza he picked up yesterday. 

“So. What were you saying about the dream,” Lio asks slowly as he piles slices on a plate. He sticks it into the microwave and bends down, focusing on the plate spinning instead of Galo. 

“I think you know what I mean,” Galo replies. 

“I don’t—”

“ _ Lio. _ You know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not possible,” Lio says desperately. He punches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“We saved the world with a co-piloted mecha and covered the planet with flames to do so,” Galo counters with a wry smile. “Does that make sense to you?” 

“No, but why? Why would we suddenly start sharing dreams?” 

Galo shrugs. 

The microwave beeps. Lio takes out the steaming slices of pizza. 

“Galo, listen.” He picks at a stray piece of cheese. “I know I said some things. In my — in  _ our _ dream.” 

Galo turns his head towards Lio, his eyes wide and unblinking. His hair has dried now, and it sticks up in shockingly blue tufts. 

“I don’t regret them.” Lio takes the plunge, squeezing his eyes shut. “I meant it. When I said I like you. A lot. I’ve meant it since we formed Lio de Galon, probably.” 

“Galo de Lion,” Galo whispers. Lio laughs, but it comes out small and shaky. 

“I’m not going to make you say anything you don’t want to say,” Lio continues. “I know you… said stuff in the dream too. But maybe you were just caught up in the moment and — do you want this pizza or not?” 

Galo shakes his head, and that’s new. 

“I did mean everything I said,” Galo says. He sets his jaw. “And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to kiss you again. Please.” 

“What?” Lio asks stupidly. 

Galo stands up, the sunshine streaming from the windows on his back. It lights up his tan skin until he’s painted with a warm yellow glow. Lio’s mesmerized. 

“Can I kiss you?” Galo repeats, but this time he’s smiling. It’s the one where his tongue pokes out from his teeth, the one he plasters on when he’s getting particularly cocky. 

“Go ahead.” Lio’s voice trembles. His throat tightens. 

Galo bends down, and kisses him, and it’s just like in Lio’s dream. 

But this time it’s better, because Lio doesn’t have that feeling of fading in and out of murky consciousness that comes with dreaming. This time, he can feel the sun on his face and Galo’s warm press of lips against his own in full clarity. This time, he doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to be kissing Galo for real. 

They pull apart. Galo drags his kiss swollen lips across the bone of Lio’s wrist.

“Please,” Lio whines. Galo smiles into Lio’s wrist. 

“I really like you too, by the way,” Lio babbles. “Like, love, in fact. Just thought you’d know.”

Galo gasps and gives him a thumbs up. “Awesome sauce! I like, love you too.” 

Lio blinks, and it’s like there’s molten lava in his chest. He feels feverishly happy. He’s walking on air. 

“You did  _ not  _ just say ‘awesome sauce’ and a love confession in the same breath,” Lio laughs, loud and bright. Galo’s eyes glimmer at the sound. 

“I did, and you love me for it” is the response, and Lio can’t argue with that. He does love Galo. 

The pizza is getting cold, but as Lio pulls Galo close for another kiss, he can’t bring himself to care. 

**Author's Note:**

> that’s it! i wrote this in a complete frenzy so i’m sure it reads as rushed as it felt while i was writing it. pls pls tell me if i made any mistakes because i like never read over my fics once i finish them akdjjsnnd 
> 
> also i’ve never kissed anyone so idk what i’m doing writing so many kisses. and no i couldn’t come up with a reason why they shared dreams ok lol they’re soulmates let’s just go with that
> 
> \+ last thing! i’m working desperately to get a christmas soukoku fic out by dec 25th, so if you are into bungou stray dogs please look out for that!


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